Of Knights and Gunmen
by petvampire
Summary: Another SeiferxIrvine, and one of my first attempts at a running, long-range story. Please enjoy. Reviews are welcomed.
1. Lies

Violet eyes lied. They said he was smooth, easy, content; they were too bright, too clear to be real. Too honest to be wrong. But they lied.

He lied, too. So easily that it hurt sometimes, because it should have cost him more to do it.

So when Selphie told him she loved him, and he said it back, he felt nothing at all for the lie. Violet eyes were oh-so-sincere, and he let her enjoy it for a few days before crushing all that sweetness and light.

She hated him, then. She should have. He couldn't be upset by it. He deserved it for the lies he'd told, all the leading her on he'd done.

Irvine Kinneas didn't sulk often. He seldom showed anything but the casual, playful outer layer; the flirtatious cowboy, occasionally the serious sniper, the man who was always there with a smile and a joke, or to be the butt of an off-the-record jest. It was easier to be what people wanted than to be himself. To lie until he had nothing left, just the emptiness in his stomach and the back of his mind that felt like pure Silence junctioned into him.

The thought made a mirthless chuckle escape him, a shadow of his usual laughter. He'd come out tonight to stop thinking, not to come up with a bunch of goddamn metaphors for his own stupidity.

'Out' wasn't much: as a full-fledged SeeD, he could leave Garden as he liked, but even though they weren't much on alert anymore, Squall ran a pretty tight ship. Irvine hadn't wanted to deal with people tracking his movements, so he'd just climbed up to one of the open decks, enjoying the air while he could get it. Too much of the place just felt confining.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so. The faint whirr of the mechanized door caught his attention; he wouldn't have been much good as a fighter if he didn't have top-notch senses, after all. He didn't bother glancing around, though. Nothing in this Garden was a threat to him, and even if some big bad had snuck up on him, it wasn't like he had a weapon to shoot at it. He'd left Exeter on the rack above his bed, not caring to cart the rifle around when he knew he wouldn't need it.

Footsteps were a little echoey on the metal of the deck, and they stopped where the sniper could feel body heat, a heavy presence at his back, slightly to one side. Didn't bother him any. If whoever it was wanted a chat, they'd have to strike it up, though.

For a few moments there was silence. Irvine just kept watching the sky, not bothering with so much as a hello.

"Guess I should say congratulations are in order, Kinneas." The smooth voice was familiar, but most were, these days. Seifer had come back to Balamb once it had touched down again, had made a place for himself despite some frightened protests from a few of the students. "'cept that chatterbox has decided to turn her attentions elsewhere. I've gotta deal with her now."

"Selphie came to _you_ for a shoulder to cry on?" The cowboy's response was frankly disbelieving, and he could feel Seifer shake his head behind him, laughing. "Nah, but she's got some magic over Raijin. He'd probably have throttled you by now, if he weren't such a damn idiot." The insult was mostly affectionate. Seifer had an odd way of showing friendship, Irvine had always known that. All the SeeDs from Edea's orphanage had reacted to their lack of parentage in different ways. The sniper coped with lies and humor; Seifer preferred rage.

Now Irvine did turn, just barely, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde. The pleasant mask looked a hell of a lot like his own usual expression. He got the feeling it was more honest on Seifer, though. The man had too short a fuse to be half the dissembler Irvine was.

"Sorry to inconvenience ya," came the usual drawl, the cowboy's voice bearing the same idle humor as it usually did. Sulking about his own mistakes was all well and good when he was on his own, but as soon as someone else was in the picture, he was back to playing a part.

The blonde waved a hand in dismissal of that half-serious apology, finally stepping up on the level with the sniper. "Don't be. We were making bets on when you'd man up and drop her, anyway."

He had to admit, he was a little surprised at that. Irvine wasn't sure who else the 'we' included, but he hadn't taken Seifer for one to give a damn about other people's relationships. Not unless he was mocking them about it, and the cowboy had never been a major target. Squall or Zell, yes; Irvine, hardly ever. He didn't rise to the bait as the other two did. Maybe that meant it wasn't worthwhile for the blonde, since he wasn't going to get a rise out of the sniper.

"Why?" It was an idle question, and Irvine looked away again.

Seifer fixed him with a candid look, silent until the sniper _had_ to glance over, just to stop the feeling of eyes boring into the side of his head. The easy, pleasant look had gone, and Irvine wasn't sure what to make of the man's expression. "You two didn't work together. Any idiot could see that. But she sure as hell wasn't going to." Shrugging, that unreadable facial expression melted into something more normal - boredom, that hint of unending irritation that always seemed to be on his face. "Guess you finally got the balls up to break the bad news. Like I said, I'd congratulate you, but..." Another shrug and a broad gesture. Irvine just shook his head.

"What're you doing out here, anyway?" The blonde was talkative tonight, and the cowboy wasn't. An unusual reversal, that was for sure.

"Tryin' to think. Hard to do with you clutterin' up my brain with chatter," and there was that usual joking, casual demeanor. It fell a little flat tonight, though. Irvine still felt utterly empty with lying, as though piling on more lacks of truth would send him beyond feeling anything. Better than whining and cursing his fate, he guessed, but not by much.

"Sorry." Again the sniper had to shoot him a look, just to be sure he'd heard correctly. Seifer Almasy didn't apologize for anything. But there was no sarcasm in the tone, no biting insult along with it. Even stranger, the other actually went quiet then, as if taking Irvine's wishes into account.

There was something off tonight. Something he was missing, maybe.

Violet eyes scanned the sky, but the quiet that had been comfortable felt almost pressing now. "Somethin' wrong?" He had to ask, if only to dispel the momentary weirdness. Irvine was, if anything, a people-pleaser, even if most of that was still just lies.

"Yeah, you." Seifer was full of surprises. The sniper fought the urge to turn and look at him and failed, finding that bluntly honest expression turned on him again. The voice matched it, open and somehow... concerned. Did Almasy ever show concern over anyone? Even Fuujin and Raijin were treated with the friendly disdain that the blonde reserved for the people he was closest to, not any outright pleasantness. "I'm not blind, cowboy, and I'm certainly not stupid. You're all messed up about something, and I know it's not Selphie. I mean, come on." The look on his face made plain that he didn't think much of the girl, exasperating as she could be. Besides, she'd kicked his ass more than once in the war. It wasn't like he held any fondness for her just because they'd grown up together.

"You don't do this. You smile and you laugh, and when you think nobody's looking you come out and you let your guard down, but you don't just show _nothing_." There was actual worry in the voice, shockingly, though it was in faint undertones. Seifer wasn't the sort to weep and whine and ask if you were all right. "Talk." That was more like him, demanding and expecting to be obeyed. The Disciplinary Committee leader all over again, even though Irvine had only heard stories about that. The blonde had always been domineering, though, even as a kid.

But the sniper hadn't listened to him then, and he didn't now, features curving into a smile again. He shrugged gracefully, even managed a laugh that sounded normal. "You're all up in arms over nothin', Almasy. Ain't nothin' wrong with me." Maybe he was shaken, but that didn't mean he owed anyone an explanation. Why should Seifer give a damn, anyway? He didn't. He was only talking so much out of curiosity, maybe, or some vestiges of childhood friendship that he'd all but forgotten. Irvine didn't need to tell him why, even if he'd all but hit the nail on the head.

He couldn't stay. He lifted a hand, tipped his hat ironically to the blonde, and started to move. There were other places to be out and alone, and maybe leaving Garden for a while wasn't the worst idea, even if it meant he had to make note of his whereabouts. Squall wouldn't bother him. Seifer wouldn't know to.

A hand grabbed his shoulder - both hands, fingers digging in with bruising force. They spun him and clamped down again, flexing and shaking the sniper, rattling him in his bones. The outright anger on the blonde's face was at least more familiar, although Irvine had rarely seen that venom directed at him. He didn't like being disobeyed, and he didn't like being ignored.

"You goddamn idiot! You _don't_ just walk away," and there was another shake, though Irvine didn't seem bothered by the pain of it. Another lie played across his face, that of utter ignorance, and Seifer had to fight not to hurt him more, just to see _something_ again. "I fucking come out here because there's something wrong, because I know there's something damn well wrong, and you won't even drop the act for a fucking second? You don't have to trust me, Kinneas; for fuck's sake, nobody else does. Just let me _know_ what the hell's going on, let me _try_ - " He'd said too much, clamped his mouth shut and shot that acid glare at the sniper.

That shook him more than all the physical jerking about. Violet eyes stared, and Irvine asked the same question he had before. "Why?"

Seifer shoved him back, then, hands balling into white-knuckled fists; Irvine half-thought he was going to go for his gunblade, before noticing that Hyperion wasn't anywhere on the other tonight. Just like the sniper, he'd been wandering without a weapon. Another odd behavior for the blonde.

"Do I have to have a fucking ulterior motive? Can't it just be that I don't like seeing a friend all fucked up and twisted?" He was still raging, but he was trying to restrain it now. Trying to keep himself from hurting the cowboy. If it had been anyone else, any of the other guys at least, he wouldn't have held back.

"We've never been friends." The sniper's voice had gone cool and empty, and he wasn't sure if he was being honest or telling another lie.

Seifer stopped altogether, unmoving for a moment. Even the tension clearly singing through the blonde's body seemed to hesitate, for a second everything going still. When he moved again, it was to shake his head, the violence gone from the motion, but he'd turned his gaze away from the sniper. He didn't look up. "No. Just kids together and enemies, and the last is fresh enough to take away anything the first might have left behind." He sounded angry still, and bitter. Irvine almost apologized, but held his tongue.

"Get out of here." It was the blonde's turn to be cold now, his usual hot-button rage faded to an icy core. He sounded more like Squall than Irvine would ever tell him, in that moment - he probably would take it as an insult.

He didn't argue. He had been going anyway, and now there was all the more reason to turn on his heel and leave, letting Seifer have the privacy of the deck. Not that it had helped Irvine think anything out, but maybe the blonde would fare better. At least he might cool off a little, so the scared students wouldn't have something real to be afraid of.

And when he saw those scared students again in the morning, teaching a SeeD class in long-range combat because there was no other job for a sniper like him at the moment, he smiled and teased and joked, but violet eyes couldn't lie that there was something in the back of his mind, troubling.


	2. Knight

Thinking hadn't helped. So Irvine had gone on to the next best thing: something, anything to make his mind disappear for a while, to prevent thoughts because he couldn't comprehend them.

The sniper didn't drink often, but when he did, it wasn't for the joy of losing control. He didn't do it to make life easier; he did it to make his mind forget the normal track of life altogether, to lose it for a time in a drowning, alcohol haze. It was pleasant to let go of memory and have it come back again later, unlike the effects of junctioning a GF. He might have done that, too, if he didn't value so much his clear memories of a shared past.

Tonight he drank, weaving and laughing on a stool in a stinking bar in Balamb. The Commander wasn't going to be happy with these latest activities, but he couldn't really offer an official reprimand unless Irvine actually started doing something wrong with his job. He hadn't, not yet, because these excursions weren't frequent. Even _he_ knew better than to get drunk every night, or too close to days he needed to teach. Maybe the cowboy didn't show a lot of common sense, but he had enough.

It was late, and most of the crowd had cleared out. They were stumbling away in pairs and in groups, hardly anyone leaving as lonely as they had come in. He had attached himself to a pretty brunette with a wicked smile, a girl who was trying to convince him to go home with her for the night. She was as far from Selphie as he could get, and Irvine was ready and willing to continue forgetting.

Head tipped back in a laugh as he accepted, and he fumbled in his pocket to pay his considerable tab. There was a definite wobble to his step as he pushed himself off of the stool, and the girl's grin widened as he reached for her hand.

An iron grip stopped him, the sheer pressure recognizable as fingers wrapped around his wrist. Some of the fog receded, and the sniper turned to glare at the familiar face. Seifer looked unhappy, and definitely dead sober. Why the hell was he in a bar at all if he wasn't drinking?

"You'll have to find someone else. Come on, Kinneas." The tone left no room for argument, and then the blonde was practically dragging him away from the bar, half-shoving him into the open passenger door of a rental car. He'd locked the doors as soon as he loaded himself into the driver's seat, that white fury still very evident.

Strangely, he said nothing at all, just gunned the gas back towards Garden, almost taking out the gate as he skidded into the parking lot. Again he was half-leading, half supporting the sniper; Irvine wasn't sure, but he thought he lost some time then, because suddenly he was in his room, staring at the ceiling bewildered.

"How'd ya...?" An un-eloquent gesture at the door finished the question. Seifer gave him a glance that clearly stated how much of an idiot he thought the man, and Irvine realized belatedly that he'd probably handed over his key. That, or the locks here were just shit. Either was a possibility.

"Are you a complete fucking moron?" The fact that the cowboy was only half-able to comprehend what he was saying apparently didn't bother Seifer; his tone was sharp enough to make the man listen. Irvine stared at him for a moment, drunk and disconcerted, shaking off the former for a moment, long enough to ask a more valid question.

"Why the hell were you there, anyway? Y'weren't drinkin'." It seemed an eminently logical point, in his current state. The drawl had given way to a slur, but Irvine didn't care.

For the second time Seifer fixed him with a _look_, painfully angry and painfully honest. "Because you can't take care of your damn self." It was followed up with a glare that half-dared Irvine to protest the statement.

Brows furrowed, and the sniper tried to shove himself up; a bad idea, as it made the room spin around his head and his stomach do a bit of a flip that didn't feel all that pleasant. By not moving for a minute or two he managed to make everything a little more normal again, and _then_ he raised violet eyes to Seifer, heated with an anger of his own.

"The hell's wrong with you? I don't need lookin' after, Almasy. You always gotta have some kinda hero complex, like ev'ry body needs you to come swoop in like... like some damn knight in shining armor..." The words were heavy, tripping over his tongue, but he got them out with the proper amount of venom. He'd hit just where he wanted to with the words, at least, judging by the taken aback look on the blonde's face.

As usual, it was quickly replaced with anger, and Seifer advanced on him, pulling back with visible restraint at the last second. He didn't hit drunks, maybe? Nah, that didn't seem right, either.

"You know what? Fuck it, I do have a goddamn complex. But who else is gonna save your sorry ass? You _do _need 'lookin' after,' clearly, because you're too goddamn stupid to realize that you would have woken up in a goddamn alley with every last gil on you gone if you'd left with that bitch. She had people waiting out there for her to bring out somebody nice and drunk and stupid to mug, you fuckin' moron," he hissed, furious. "You're too drunk and too goddamn blind to see what's right in front of you, and even when you're not - shit, Kinneas, you won't let anybody do a damn thing for you, even though you obviously need help. Well, I'm not asking your fucking permission, so shut the fuck up and deal with it."

It was the sniper's turn to look stunned, trying to find a comeback and lacking the words, or really, any words at all. He hadn't expected that from Seifer, and he clearly hadn't noticed the disposition of the girl he'd been going to leave the bar with. His head was still too hazy to make sense of it.

The blonde shook his head abruptly, turning away from him. "Just go to bed. You're gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning, but it beats the hell out of where you could have been." He stalked off gods-knew-where, and Irvine was of half a mind to follow. But the alcohol was still there, and it dragged him back, dragged him down, until his brain was spinning so much that lying back down was really the only viable option. And as soon as he'd hit the pillow, he was asleep or at least unconscious, down for the count.

xxxxxxxx

His head was fit to burst when he managed to get up again, looking a hell of a lot worse for the wear. Sickly pale, bleary-eyed, and hopelessly rumpled, the cowboy was far from his usual charming self. He didn't need to be charming, at the moment; he needed his head to stop splitting before it actually cracked his skull in half. With slow care, he sat up, feeling the alcohol-sticky fabric of last night's clothes against his skin. He'd spilled something on himself, obviously. Maybe he had gone too far.

Even more slowly, he managed to get to his feet. For a second, standing was all he could manage, a hand on the bedside table to support him. Then things cleared a little, and Irvine managed to take a good look around.

Seifer was asleep on his couch. It couldn't have been the most comfortable place in the world, but the blonde had stubbornly remained there. Had he thought the sniper was going to go running off to get even more stupid-drunk? But he wasn't watching, wasn't guarding the door or anything, just sleeping. He didn't look peaceful - there was a crinkle between his brows, as though he were annoyed with something even in dreams - but he'd clearly been resting a while, and more solidly than Irvine had.

He'd think about it later. Right now he needed a shower and an Elixir, preferably before his head exploded. With slightly shaky steps he made his way into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him as he seldom did.

He remembered. Drunk as he was, he'd have thought there would be gaps, big ones, holes in the memory of the night. That had been his intention, after all. But even though things were blurry for the most part, Irvine remembered, the tail end of the night fairly vividly impressed on him. Maybe because Seifer had been all but screaming at him, he thought as his head throbbed again, making him rifle through the cabinets for something to ease the pain.

Downing the Elixir helped, although it wasn't going to take away the hangover altogether. The shower helped more, or at least it sloughed the scent of stale alcohol off his skin, though the smell lingered in the pile of dirty clothes he left on the floor. He still looked bloodshot and unpleasant, but at least he was more aware.

Seifer was still there when the cowboy finally dragged himself out again, reluctant to leave the soothing warmth of his shower, but aware that he probably had shit to do. At the very least, he had to get the irate blonde to go elsewhere, because he really wasn't in the mood for another yelling lecture this morning. Or any yelling, period. With unusually clumsy hands he sought out clean clothes and got dressed again, draping the towel over his shoulders to wring out damp hair. Even those movements, quiet as they were, had caused enough sound to wake the blonde - he was a fighter through and through, a light sleeper like the rest of them, so it was understandable.

He didn't start glaring first thing, although he did regard Irvine with a frown as he woke up a little more, uncurling himself from the cramped position on the couch. When the sniper didn't say anything, neither did he, instead collecting his coat from where he'd hung it on the doorknob, essentially ignoring the other as he slid it back on and pulled the door open.

He stopped, though, before he left, and shot a piercing look back at the man, some vestige of last night's anger still there, and promising not to fade any time soon. "Don't make me have to come find you again." And then he was gone, leaving memory and an unpleasant hangover in his wake.


	3. Truths

It took Irvine a few days to realize it, but it was made extremely clear: Seifer had been serious about looking out for the sniper, whether he liked it or not. He'd thought, at first, that the man was just making sure he wasn't going to go out drinking that badly again. But after a few days, the cowboy realized he had an angry blonde shadow, following him without any subtlety around the Garden, lingering the back of his classes, watchful. It was starting to make the students uncomfortable, not to mention Irvine himself.

The blonde was just constantly _there_, like a guardian hovering over his charge, even if from a distance. But when Irvine tried to say something, tried to get rid of him, he was nowhere to be found. He had been honest when he'd said he wasn't asking the sniper's permission to tail him, to make sure he wasn't doing anything idiotic.

It was frustrating. No, it was irritating. For the first time in a long while, the easy-going cowboy was beginning to get honestly angry.

There were few enough times he could manage to slip away from Seifer's watchful eye, even for a brief couple of minutes. Irvine had taken to going to the Training Center just to work out some of his annoyance, decimating monsters just because it gave him a brief respite from being watched. Either Seifer didn't think he needed looking after in the Center, or he didn't expect the sniper to be there at all. He had never really liked the place, fighting only when he had to for the most part, rather than deliberately going to battle. He could train just as well with targets as he could with the living specimens in the Training Center.

He had ventured into the Secret Area tonight, needing a little more privacy than he could find anywhere else. Exeter to his shoulder, he took out the Grat that had been disturbed by his entrance, then wound his way away from the major fight zones, finding a peaceful place he could just _hide_ for a while.

Because by god, that was what he was doing. Hiding away because Seifer wouldn't give him any peace, any time to himself. The other practically guarded his door when he was in his room - it was _infuriating_, having the man stick as close to Irvine as he had to Edea when he'd been her knight.

The sniper didn't need a keeper, didn't need protection, or whatever the hell it was Seifer thought he was offering.

Settling the butt of his rifle against the floor, the cowboy let out an aggravated noise - half growl, half shout, it probably would have brought the monsters down on him if he hadn't been in a protected area.

As if in answer, the faint rustle of branches indicated that the very person Irvine didn't want to see was here, gunblade in hand, smeared with the blueish blood of a T-Rexaur. There was a smear of it across his face, probably an accidental brush of a bloody hand against the skin. Maybe he had just been training, coincidentally at the same time as the cowboy, but Irvine wasn't willing to believe in that much of a coincidence.

"Can't you just leave well enough alone?" His tone was vicious, something very seldom heard in the pleasant, drawling voice. He was half a second away from picking up his rifle and just putting a bullet in the blonde to get rid of him, if there was no other way to make him see reason. "I don't need you _stalking_ me." Fingers clenched tight around the gun's barrel; the gentle, teasing cowboy was gone.

Incredibly, Seifer laughed.

The sound was hard-edged and lacked use, but it wasn't the disdainful snicker most people heard from the man. Irvine stared, wondering whether the blonde had finally gone insane. Slowly the laughter faded, and the unpleasant expression was back on his face, although it wasn't anger this time, not quite.

"Don't you get it yet, Kinneas? His words held that blunt honesty that the sniper had begun to get from him more often than not, that almost painful clarity. "You're pissed off, I get it. You probably want to shoot me or something; fine. You can hate me if you want. Most people do. At least you're feeling _something_." He shook his head, letting out that sharp bark of laughter once again. "If it takes following your sorry ass around to make that happen, great, I'll keep doing it if I have to. At least you don't look - like there's something missing, like you're empty, like you've completely lost whatever used to be there. You don't have to be happy, you just have to be _anything _but fucking_ gone._"

Irvine gaped at him, completely shocked by the words coming out of the blonde's mouth. He'd thought, assumed, that Seifer was just following him around out of some misguided hero complex, or just to set him off because it entertained him. The sniper had never considered that he might be legitimately trying to help, in his own way, even though Seifer had made that clear. He hadn't believed it, hadn't thought anything of it.

The blonde moved forward, reaching a hand out to grab his shoulder before remembering the blood smeared over his glove. The gesture hung in the air for a moment, then Seifer dropped it, not needing it to make his point. "If this is what it takes to shake you out of whatever funk you're in, it's nothing to me if you're pissed." There was a hard set to his jaw, that stubbornness he was known for. "You don't deserve to be sucked dry and empty, and - fuck, I can't stand seeing you lose yourself like that!"

He was hallucinating, had to be, seeing and hearing things that made absolutely no sense. Seifer Almasy didn't give a damn about other people, didn't care if they were screwed up or unsure or anything, not if it didn't gain him anything. He wasn't here, wasn't saying all this crazy, very un-Seifer shit; Irvine had to have gone completely out of it.

He was still just staring, aghast, and maybe the blonde had been expecting something - a reaction at least, no matter what sort. The disgruntled expression was back, and Seifer made a disdainful noise, more familiar at least. "You're such a goddamn idiot," he grumbled half under his breath, closing the distance between them. He had obviously stopped worrying about the blood on his hands as he grabbed the sniper by the lapels of his leather coat, leaving smears against the fabric as he half-dragged Irvine forward. Another smudge of it was left against the pale jaw as he tipped the sniper's chin up, making him meet the blonde's gaze. Violet met cyan, and Irvine could see clearly that Seifer's eyes didn't lie - not now, not ever.

"Don't know why I even bother," Seifer muttered, even as he leaned across the remaining space to kiss him.


	4. Retorts

Irvine was... bewildered. That was the best word he could come up with, even though it didn't express what he needed it to. He was confused, yes, but it was an innately pleasant confusion, one he couldn't quite break through.

He had come back from the Training Center the night before with that same confusion hovering over him, after Seifer's admission and subsequent actions. The blonde had let him go, hadn't followed for once. He'd made his point, after all. Still, Irvine couldn't think even though he had the privacy he'd been seeking out. Maybe that kiss had addled his brains; it would have done so to any sane person.

The sniper was still trying to figure out just where that had come from. As he'd told the blonde before, during their encounter on the outer deck, they had never been friends, had never been close. He had been under the impression that Seifer had never liked him at all, as little attention as he had always paid Irvine. Even as kids, he'd just sort of passed the other by. Now this... it was baffling, but not in a bad way. Even as Irvine turned everything over again and again, trying to work it out in his own mind, he couldn't see it in a negative light.

Why would he? The other hadn't done anything to harm him, had never intended to. This attention was infinitely better than the outright cruelty Seifer had always shown the rest of the orphanage gang, even if he'd gotten better about it recently. Still, Irvine couldn't understand what the hell might be going through the blonde's head, or what to make of it. Even the playboy cowboy hadn't had a response last night, not for something so sudden, so unexpected.

He couldn't just roll with the punches this time, couldn't just accept and move on. Things were too different, too out of the ordinary to treat them the way Irvine usually treated everything else.

Sleeping on it hadn't brought any answers, and Irvine prepared to face his class still more than a bit confused. At least he didn't have to worry about any of _them_ throwing him off - he knew his trade too well to be sidetracked by any questions. Teaching had never really been something he'd seen himself doing, but he managed well enough, according to the rest of the SeeDs.

He'd half expected Seifer to be hovering in the back of his classroom again, but the blonde was conspicuous only by his absence. The students were relieved, but Irvine wasn't sure what to think of it. Damn the man, sending him reeling like that!

By the end of the day, he knew he needed to track down the blonde, talk some things out. Simply mulling over his own confusion wasn't helping; he needed straight answers. At the very least, he could trust Seifer to give him those. Bluntness seemed to be the way he worked.

The Training Center was empty of any sign of the gunblade-user, and asking around didn't produce any leads to the man. Finally Irvine ended up making his way towards the SeeD dorm the other currently occupied, though he hadn't wanted to resort to invading the other's personal space. The blonde wasn't exactly the most open of people, after all. He probably wouldn't want people harassing him in his own home (of sorts) unless he expressly invited them.

A knock yielded no answers, but the sniper lingered there for a moment, rapping on the door a little louder. A muffled sound from within let him know that, at the very least, someone was there, and Irvine waited until the door swung inward, squeaking lightly on its hinges.

Seifer looked only half awake, even though it was barely evening. Though the sniper couldn't say he knew exactly what the other did with his time (aside from following him, lately), so maybe this was normal. He blinked at Irvine uncomprehendingly, turning aside from a moment to let out a yawn before he spoke.

"What is it, Kinneas? Figured I'd scared you off." The words lacked any venom, though. Seifer just leaned against the doorframe, looking at him.

The cowboy managed a smile, raising a hand to push auburn hair out of his face. "Mind if I come in? Haven't decided if I'm scared off or not yet, y'know."

Muffling a snicker, the blonde pulled the door open further, gesturing the other inside. A moment's hesitation and he went, scanning the room quickly. It was a mess, but that was sort of expected. Seifer had never struck him as the neat freak type. The only things in good order were the carefully cleaned gunblade propped against one wall, and the stack of clean (if unfolded) laundry on the edge of the standard-issue desk. Irvine chose to lean against that desk, not quite comfortable enough to settle in anywhere else.

"Well?" Seifer had flopped back on his bed, the rumpled sheets indicating he'd only just vacated it when the sniper had knocked. Irvine tried not to look at him, but he found it difficult - the blonde made quite the sight even without trying. He hadn't paid attention to it before, probably because he hadn't had reason to turn his thoughts that way. The other had brought himself into a different light, whether Irvine liked it or not.

That seemed to be the way a lot of things went with Seifer - his way, or the highway.

The sniper decided to just try the other's tactic, that characteristic bluntness that came so easily to him. Better to be honest and get things out in the open, wasn't it? "Look, I just don't get what happened. You're not the kinda guy who goes around helpin' people out outta the goodness of your heart." The blonde shrugged acknowledgement, clearly not bothered by what some people would have taken as an insult. "What I'm tryin' to figure out is-"

"Why?" Seifer grinned at the other's expression. "You always wanna know why, cowboy. One of your better qualities." He was up again, even though he'd just gotten comfortable. Not closing too much distance this time, he paced the small square of open floor. His smile faded a little, replaced by that unaccustomed seriousness.

"What can I say, Kinneas? I'm not too good at explaining, and I don't half understand things myself. All I know is, you were starting to get really messed up there for a while, after Selphie, and I didn't like it." He frowned, apparently irritated by his own inability to put things into words. "I mean, you've always been around, one way or another, but I'd never seen you like that. It wasn't right." Again he shook his head, raking fingers through short-cropped hair. "I just felt like I needed to _do_ something, or you were gonna lose everything you've always been. I couldn't watch that happen."

That much made sense, or at least the sniper thought it did. It still confused him, the changeover from the uncaring Seifer he'd always known, but... hell, the war had changed them all. Seifer had changed, Irvine had seen as much in the other's coming back to Garden, his interactions with people. He hadn't turned into a nice guy, never would, but there was something different about him now. Maybe that change had started another.

Still, the sniper had one more question. "But you kissed me because...?" Honest confusion in his voice; that was what had sent him all disconcerted the most.

Seifer stopped his pacing and looked at him, a half-smirk curving his lips, a brow raised. There was humor in his face, just as there was in his voice. "Come _on_, Kinneas. Who wouldn't?"

He had to laugh at that, although still a little disconcerted by the blonde's interest. Irvine was well aware that he was the subject of more than a few crushes, a hell of a lot of casual lust. But he hadn't taken Seifer for the sort to be interested in, well, anyone, particularly not anyone of the male persuasion. Even _more_ particularly not the cowboy who was well known for his fickleness, his casual attitude towards relationships.

Of course, it wasn't like Seifer was actually trying to start anything. He wasn't that sort of person, either. Still, the sniper had to ask. "So... what now?"

"What now?" The blonde snickered again, amused by the question. "Nothing now, Kinneas. I'm not expecting anything. I did what I intended to, so _you_ go back to your normal life. Or," and his expression shifted into a decidedly wicked leer, tone only half teasing, "You can stay."

This time it was Irvine who pushed himself away from the desk, made an exasperated noise, and closed in for a kiss.


	5. Sparks

He wasn't sure what had made him do it - the rash decision to just dive into things probably wasn't the best one he'd ever made, but Irvine couldn't say, not yet. It was too soon to tell.

It wasn't like the first time, surprised and caught off-guard as he had been. Seifer kissed him with a heady force, responding to the sniper's half-tentative motion with that instinctive arrogance, utter dominance. The blonde had always had a take-no-prisoners attitude, and it extended to this as well. Irvine couldn't say it was unpleasant.

The other pressed him back, until the cowboy felt the sharp edge of the desk he'd been leaning against digging into his spine. An arm had gone automatically around Seifer's waist, the other hand drifting against his shoulder, touching cool fabric and the bare skin where the dark vest ended. The blonde had a hand buried in the plush lapels of Irvine's coat, and had knocked the cowboy hat backwards, fingers tugging out the band holding auburn hair back and twisting into the loosened strands.

A sound of mingled pain and enjoyment escaped the sniper, and Seifer took that as encouragement, nipping hard at his lower lip. That brought a more honest groan from him, and Irvine was fairly sure he'd made a better decision than he'd first thought. Maybe the blonde wasn't the most pleasant person in the world, and not someone the cowboy had ever even considered spending a night with (because he had regarded it as an utter impossibility, even once they were no longer enemies), but he knew what he was doing. It didn't take much to pique Irvine's interest, admittedly, but even he could appreciate a little skill.

Breaking away to breathe, the other trailed lips down his neck, tongue flicking against the pulse beating above his jugular vein. Irvine tipped his head back, giving better access, and that was all the encouragement Seifer needed - hands started pushing the cowboy's coat from his shoulders, impatiently popping open the buttons on his vest as well. That brought a breathless laugh from Irvine, regarding the blonde with an amused smirk.

"Can't wait a second, huh? How long've you been waitin' to jump my bones, Almasy?" The words were teasing, and Seifer responded to them with a low growl and a harsh nip to the other's ear. "Don't think so much of yourself, cowboy. If I'd been trying to get in your pants, I wouldn't have waited so long." He pushed the second layer of fabric away from the other's chest, leaving the garments shoved half down the man's arms. Dipping his head, he wasted no time, tongue trailing against a nipple that jutted dark against pale skin.

Irvine sucked in a quick breath, leaning back against the desk, supporting himself on his elbows. He couldn't help but watch as Seifer moved, mouth shifting over his chest with practiced expertise (and a hell of a lot of impatience). The blonde focused on what he was doing to the exclusion of all else, intent on bringing more of those sounds from his partner. He hadn't seemed like the type, but the cowboy wasn't complaining.

He shifted his weight a little, bringing a hand down to sweep through the short-cropped hair, fingertips playing over the nape of the other's neck, curving around to the hard line of jaw. Seifer tilted his head into the touch in acknowledgment, trailing his tongue over the corded muscles of the other's stomach. He lingered there, for a moment, teasing close to the top edge of the sniper's pants, before straightening up again, catching the man's mouth yet again.

The press of his mouth was hard and ruthless, and Irvine responded in kind, tongue tangling against Seifer's. It was his turn to do a little exploration, pushing open the fabric of the other's top, running his palms down the hard chest. The gunblade-wielder was well-built, he had always known that; it was a whole different experience, being able to actually touch that carefully maintained musculature. Grinning against the other's mouth, he nipped at the swell of a lower lip as fingertips slid down, playing against the fastenings of the blonde's pants.

Seifer grunted, pushing his hips forward against the sniper's hand, the movement inherently demanding. Irvine laughed against the man's mouth, although he did obey the implicit command, quickly undoing the button and sliding down the zipper. With one smooth movement he slipped his hand into the blonde's pants, unsurprised that there was nothing beneath. Calloused fingers wrapped lightly around the man's evident erection, and he grinned against Seifer's mouth as a faint groan was muffled against his lips.

The kiss was broken once again, and Seifer drew away just enough that the sniper could see his expression, torn between pleasure and wariness. "You'd better not just be teasing me, cowboy," was his warning, as though people had come to this point and pulled away before, either embarrassed or intimidated. Irvine just laughed, taking a firmer grip on the man's arousal. "I'd never tease, Almasy. Not if I knew I'd get murdered if I tried." The slightly smug, amused smirk that curved the blonde's lips in response made it clear that he'd considered such a threat.

He slid a hand into Irvine's hair, tugging lightly downwards, and the sniper knew from experience what it meant. Another chuckle escaped him as he slid down Seifer's body, lips trailing along the stomach he'd been exploring with his fingertips. "You're always so damn demandin'," he drawled, flicking his tongue against the smooth curve of a hipbone as he tugged the other's pants further down his legs, exposing the hard-muscled thighs.

Seifer's fingers tightened in the auburn hair, still inexorably pushing down. "Damn straight. Now shut it, and put that mouth to better use." Irvine's smirk broadened, and he settled more comfortably onto his knees on the floor before taking the other's demand to heart, lips wrapping around the head of the blonde's cock.

An immediate reward came in the form of the other's unstifled moan, hips pushing lightly forward into the cowboy's mouth. With the relative ease of practice, as clearly he'd done this before, Irvine slid his mouth further down the firm length, tongue trailing against the underside as he came back up. As impatient as Seifer was, he wasted no time settling into a rhythm, the blonde's hips rocking forward in time. The sniper chanced a half-lidded glance upwards, amused and aroused by seeing the constantly irritated man's face slack with pleasure.

No, this hadn't been such a bad decision at all.

Seifer only let him go on for so long - with a guttural groan, he half-dragged the cowboy back up, lips finding his in that almost painful lock once again. This time he moved them both, maneuvering the pair of them past the various piles of things on the floor until he could push Irvine back against the rumpled sheets of his bed. With fingers that were much clumsier than the sniper's he undid the man's pants, growling at the annoyance of dealing with the belt and the fastenings beneath. Hungrily he shoved the layers of denim and leather away, kicking the clinging remains of his own pants away at the same time.

He had the decency to pull back from the other for a moment, though, giving him that blunt look once again. "You okay with this?" He didn't need to elaborate; Irvine knew what he meant. Grinning, he dragged the other down into another rough kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before muttering a response against the hot press of his mouth. "If ya quit askin', I will be."

The blonde took that as a yes, and fell on the sniper once again, hands and lips everywhere at once. He sucked at the man's neck as he reached away from them, tugging the drawer of his bedside table open and scrabbling through it without looking, knowing by feel what he was searching for. Irvine raised a brow as the blonde pulled a half-full bottle of lube towards them, chuckling breathlessly. "You do this often, Almasy?"

"Even an evil bastard has needs," he grumbled against the other's throat, leaving a livid mark with a particularly vicious nip. Irvine let out a light whimper, a sound that seemed to please Seifer immensely. Or maybe it was just the fact that the cowboy had stopped making smart remarks.

Popping the cap on the bottle, the blonde slicked the lubricant along one hand, sliding that around the sniper to grope indelicately at his backside. With little hesitation he pressed the tip of one finger past the puckered entrance, making Irvine let out a half-pained moan. It had been a while, he had to admit to himself, but the other's intrusions were more than welcome. Quickly he became accustomed to the swift movements of one finger inside of him, and Seifer pressed in a second, then a third; the preparation was not exactly gentle, but Irvine didn't need that sort of consideration.

The other's fingertips sought out his sweet spot, and the sniper let out a louder groan, pushing his hips down against the moving hand. Against his collarbone, he could feel Seifer's grin as the other ruthlessly exploited that pleasurable weakness for a moment, drawing his hand back almost reluctantly. He wasn't one to deny his own needs for long, though, as Irvine had guessed.

Reaching for the lube again, Seifer smeared a generous amount over his erection, haphazardly tossing the hastily closed bottle aside with a guttural noise of desire. He pushed Irvine back against the sheets again, adjusting them so they were no longer half-perched on the mattress. The sniper spread his legs obligingly to let the man settle between them, one hand languidly stroking his neglected cock. Ever in control, Seifer tugged the other's hips sharply towards them, pressing himself forward against the cowboy's ass. A quirk of his brow silently asked if the man was ready, but didn't wait for a reply - with a quick movement he was sheathed in the sniper, letting out a loud groan.

The tightness, the almost unbearable pressure had them both reeling; Irvine found himself in unaccustomed discomfort for a moment, panting as he brought hands to the blonde's hips, as though to forestall any movement. Seifer was paying more attention to the needs of his partner than the sniper would expect, though, stilled for a moment despite the trembling need to _move_ showing through him. He didn't want to actually _hurt_ the cowboy - if he had, there were much easier ways to go about it, and he'd had plenty of opportunity.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath after a few moments that felt like years, slowly drawing himself back, still careful of his movements. That care was rewarded with a low keen from the sniper beneath him, and Seifer managed a grin as he set a languid rhythm, keeping to it for the moment. Doubtless Irvine would adjust quickly. The man did have a reputation, after all.

He was groaning underneath him now, long legs having worked their way around the blonde's hips. A sharp press upward proved that Seifer didn't have to be quite so careful anymore; the sniper was silently urging for more motion, more speed, and the man obliged easily. He picked up the pace, more force building behind his thrusts. The other wasn't going to break.

Irvine moaned again, louder as Seifer found the right angle to hit _just_ that spot, and bucked relentlessly into it, leaving the cowboy barely time to breathe. Now he was quite certain he'd done the right thing, no matter how incredibly ridiculous it had seemed at the time - Seifer was a _damn good fuck_, whatever else he might be. Even the constant temper and tendency to tease could be endured for _this._

Not that he was thinking this would happen again. Of course not, that would be crazy. But so was the fact that it was going on at all...

A particularly hard thrust made his mind go reeling away from any logical thought, filling it again with only lust and need. He panted the blonde's name, and felt the answering jolt of pleasure as the other hit hard into him once again. Distantly, Irvine was amused at the egotism that made the other so keen to hear his own name in the throes of passion; in the moment, he had no thought but _more_.

And once again Seifer obliged, so far gone in his own need that he wouldn't have been able to stop, even if Irvine had wanted him to. He had shifted his weight to one arm, elbow buried in the mattress, fingers tight in the sheets and blankets. The other hand had moved, sliding between them so he could touch the cowboy in swift, efficient strokes, bringing yet another spate of moans from the violet-eyed man. He was getting too close to the edge, and he wanted to make sure Irvine was there with him.

Apparently, he hadn't needed to worry. The touches sent the cowboy spiraling towards that height of pleasure, his hips bucking forward to meet each of Seifer's thrusts, each stroke of his hand. Their rhythm hit a fever pitch, and then Irvine was gone, a muffled moan of what might have been Seifer's name escaping him, just barely - he'd brought a hand up, biting into the base of his thumb to keep the sounds at bay. Cock twitching, he spilled over the blonde's hand, body tensing in such a way that it brought Seifer just moments after him, grunting gutturally as he pushed _hard_ into the cowboy, coming deep into the lithe body.

For a minute, all they could do was just stay there, panting. The blonde collapsed forward a little, sweaty forehead pressing against the sniper's equally sweaty shoulder.

As usual, Irvine was the one to speak up, although he was hardly his eloquent self. "_... Hyne_," he breathed, almost-laughter in the voice, although the situation wasn't at all funny. "If I'da known it would be like _that_..."

He left the rest unsaid as Seifer let out another groan, this one in mock annoyance as he shoved the other lightly in the ribs, no real violence in the motion. "If you'd come sniffing around me just for a lay, cowboy, I wouldn't have given you the time of day, and you know it."

Now the sniper did laugh, still breathlessly, shaking his head (as much to get matted auburn hair from sticking to his cheek as anything). "Yeah, I know."

He was smart enough not to ask what had changed, smart enough not to say anything else at all. Eventually Seifer managed to drag himself off and depart for the bathroom, citing a need to clean himself up; he didn't ask Irvine to leave, though. The cowboy wasn't even thinking about such a thing yet, and stayed where he was, listening to the shower run and staring at the ceiling.

Somehow, he found he thought a little more clearly here than he had on his own.


	6. Breaks

The shower ran, the hushed sound of water going on.

And on.

Suddenly, Irvine wasn't so sure he was comfortable sticking around anymore.

He could not pinpoint the exact moment in which the afterglow of a damn good lay turned into awkwardness that he was still here, still waiting on Seifer to get out of the shower. What the hell was he _doing_ in there? Not that it mattered, but it almost felt like an oblique insult, the fact that the other was taking so long to get cleaned up.

Really, the cowboy didn't know what he had been expecting. He hadn't expected _any_ of this to begin with, so he hadn't really had any contingency plans.

Who _did_ plan for falling into bed with Seifer Almasy? The thought was almost laughable.

The sniper shifted uncomfortably; he wasn't laughing now. Now he was just sitting here, staring at the unfamiliar room, naked and with a growing discomfort. It wasn't pleasant. Sure, he'd had a hell of a lot of one-night-stands, but they usually weren't sober, and besides, it was usually to his room they went, and the other partner was out within a few drunken, hurried minutes. Nobody stuck around, and more particularly, nobody expected _him_ to stick around.

What was Seifer expecting?

Irvine hardly thought he was the type to want someone like the cowboy around. The fact that they had done this at all had been a shock in and of itself, and almost definitely a one-off. Neither of them were the type to form attachments, even if just of a 'really-good-fuck' variety.

So why was he still here?

That thought, really, was what spurred him to move. Ignoring the fact that he was in dire need of a shower himself (had that been what Seifer was taking so long for, waiting for him? No, that was stupid), he located his clothes, sliding jeans and chaps on with a slight grimace of distaste. This was not something he was unaccustomed to, though. Hell, there had been occasions when he had snuck from one room back to his own with just his coat pulled around him, although he preferred not to do that - cleaning the leather was a pain in the ass.

The coat he located as well, slinging it over one arm as he took a longer moment to search for his vest, flung haphazardly into the mess that was Seifer's room. Sliding it over his shoulders, he didn't bother with the buttons; why go through the extra work when he was just going to get in the shower once he got back to his own room? His hat, however, he took the time to carefully re-shape after its trip to the floor, and carefully place in its proper position. He could very easily be seen without a shirt; to be seen without his hat would entirely ruin his reputation.

Okay, that was completely idiotic, but it was a _thing_.

All of that took time, and his mind was too distracted with reeling thoughts to notice that the shower had finally turned off. He was heading for the door before he realized it, the facts clicking together only when a low voice from across the room addressed him.

"Where're you going, cowboy?"

Seifer did cut an attractive figure, leaning against the doorway, towel around his waist, hair damp, albeit with his typically disgruntled expression firmly in place. The sniper managed not to look guilty or remotely confused, flashing his usually charming smile at the man. "Figured I'd head back. Looked like I was screwin' up your sleep schedule earlier, yeah?"

The blonde frowned. "You didn't screw up anything." His fingers tapped irritably against his hip, irresistibly drawing Irvine's attention; it really was a stroke of good luck, having somehow managed to get on the other's less... violently raging side. Although it was beginning to look like the grace period wasn't going to last. Interesting. Irvine didn't really know what he was doing wrong, if he was doing something wrong at all.

"Yeah, well. Common courtesy, right?" A one-shouldered shrug, another smooth smile. It was somewhat more difficult to act nonchalant when he was standing halfway to the door with his pants sticking unpleasantly to his body, vest open and coat on one arm.

"Come on, Kinneas. You really think I believe that?" The skepticism in his voice was difficult to ignore, even if he had wanted to. Still, the cowboy failed to grasp why this was important in the least. What was it to Seifer if he left? He smiled, guileless and entirely false. Lying once again. "Does it matter?"

Seifer was moving, gait deceptively smooth, so much that it provided another layer of distraction for the sharpshooter. _Damn_, had he gotten lucky. Or maybe unlucky, since the blonde was approaching with his usual unpleasant look on his face, the same set of hard irritation to his jaw that Irvine more often saw when the other was dealing with people he didn't much like. He wondered if he had made that list. People didn't _generally_ sleep with people they weren't terribly fond of, but it wouldn't be the first time, nor the last.

"Yeah, it matters." He stopped in front of the cowboy, glowering at him, as if the force of his displeasure could somehow get results. Irvine remained unmoved, and that just seemed to piss the blonde off more. "Do you always run out on people like this?"

"Yes," he responded coolly, meeting the other's gaze. "Or they run out on me."

This conversation was ridiculous. Seifer _knew_ his reputation. Had seen it in action for quite some time now, since he'd come back to the Garden, even if he hadn't known about it before. He'd seemed to acknowledge it without it bothering him, so why the big fuss now?

Unless...

No, that was an impossible line of thought, more suited to some idiotic first-year girl than Seifer bloody Almasy. The other didn't _like_ him. He didn't like anyone, let alone form stupid attachments based on one bout in bed. Even if he had seemed more concerned about Irvine's previous behavior than was his norm, well, he'd changed. He was less of an asshole to everybody now. That had nothing to do with any _feelings_ (and the word, even in the sniper's thoughts, was venomous) but perhaps some sort of old friendship. Maybe an obligation. Maybe just some stubborn hero complex, which seemed the most likely answer.

But a hero complex didn't explain why Seifer was getting pissed off now. Irvine kept his eyes on the blonde's face, watching as anger seemed to rise through him, only to be tightly restrained, held back. Why hold back? He didn't really hesitate to lash out on anyone else, though he had done it less and less often lately.

"Get out," he finally snapped, taking the sniper's mind back to when the other had first approached him, out on the observation deck. He'd pissed him off then, too.

And now he did the same thing, flashing a smile and giving a mocking tip of the hat. "My pleasure."

It wasn't until much later, back in his room with a few uncomfortable aches and an insistent feeling that something wasn't right, that he wondered if he'd made a wrong judgment.


End file.
